


Stick Fighting

by etben



Category: Stargate: Atlantis, due South
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etben/pseuds/etben
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hot space babes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stick Fighting

"So," Ray says, as they head down the hallways, "you picked up any hot space babes yet?"  Fraser turns to glare at him, but what does he want?  Ray's just curious, looking around, because if there are space babes to be seen, he's not going to miss his chance.  Sheppard's not offended, anyway—he just kind of shrugs, says, no, not as many as you'd think.  Ray's about to say that it's a damn shame, how life never lives up to TV, except that all of a sudden he's jumping to the left to avoid McKay, who's turned around to glare at Sheppard.

"Not as many as you'd expect?  Oh, excuse me, _Kirk_," he says, rolling his eyes, "how many were you expecting?"  Ray can see that Sheppard's pissed off about the Kirk crack—he's got the same look that Fraser gets when Ray's giving him shit about some damn thing or another for the tenth time in a day.  _I'm not going to kill you_, the look says, _but if you don't shut the hell up, I might change my mind_.  So Sheppard makes some crack about McKay being jealous, and McKay sputters and swears and waves his hands some more, and they're off, in what's clearly a well-loved and familiar argument.

They're still at it when they get to the gym, with McKay calling out strings of letters and numbers—apparently they're the names of planets, which, Ray doesn't understand why they don't just name them, already, but whatever—and Sheppard explaining why there weren't any space babes there.

"PY-76M," McKay says, smugly, and Sheppard frowns, for a minute.

"What, the volcano planet?"  he says, and McKay nods.  "Oh, that is—for chrissake, that was your space babe, Rodney!—no way would I try to pick her up."

"And yet, oh, wait, let's think—you did."

"I did not!  when would I have picked her up, anyway?  In case you've forgotten, we were going to explode."  McKay shrugs, like it's all the same to him.

"Yes, fine, but you could have; that's the point, here."

"No, Rodney," Sheppard drawls, looking through a cabinet on the far wall, "the _point_ is that I do not pick up space babes and bring them back to Atlantis.  Even when I can," he adds, "I am a gentleman, and leave them on their own planets.  And no—Chaya doesn't count!"  McKay shrugs and mutters, like Sheppard's ruined all his fun, but then he's back, hands waving again.

"What about Teyla?"

Sheppard honestly looks shocked, like McKay's just said he does something with sheep.

"You—Teyla's not a _space babe_!"

"Why not?"  McKay asks, reasonably enough.  "She's female, she's from space, she's hot, and you brought her back to Atlantis.  I don't see what your objection is."

"McKay, I wouldn't hit on Teyla—"

"And again, I ask, why the hell not?  I'd hit on Teyla, if I wasn't quite sure she'd send Ronon to kill me—"

"If ever I wish to kill you, Rodney, I will do it myself, as befits a friend," and Ray turns, and _wow_.  He's going to have to agree with McKay on this one—this Teyla chick is gorgeous, all golden skin and a body that just doesn't quit.  She's wearing the same sort of uniform that Weir was, back in her office, but she wears it like some women wear lingerie, and looks better in it than most of them do.  She's smiling at McKay, a friendly, open smile, and he's embarrassed, but smiling, like this happens to him a lot (which Ray can definitely believe).  Then she turns to them, him and Fraser, and nods to them.

       "You must be the visitors from Earth—I spoke with Doctor Weir this morning.  I am Teyla Emmagan, of Athos, and you are Ray Kowalski—" she sounds her way around his name, and he nods when she gets it right "—and Benton Fraser, are you not?"  Of course they are, and Ray's about to make nice, try to get to know her, but she turns away, towards Sheppard, who holds up a pair of sticks.  Without a word, the two of them move into position on the mat, and start fighting.

And, again, wow. Ray knows he must be staring, figures Fraser's probably glaring at him and gearing up to give him a speech about not objectificating women, about respecting people for their abilities and not their outward appearance, about how all women are their sisters, and he just—doesn't—care. He's not sure he'd even be able to stop staring if Teyla came over here to make him; he sure as hell wouldn't want to.

She could, though, and that's what makes it even better. Like, he's not just staring at a hot girl (although he really, really is, and he's not afraid to admit it), he's also admiring a work of art, or something like that. Teyla's gorgeous, yeah, sure, but she's also good—really good. Sheppard's no slouch, from what Ray's seen, and she's wiping the floor with him, chasing him around the room and hitting him with her sticks, really whaling on him. He's panting, sweating, working hard for every hit he gets in, and Teyla's just—she's not only beating the crap out of him, she's doing it with a smile on her face.

It's clear, to Ray, that she's doing this because she loves it. She's not moving like a drill, or like a fight she actually cares about; she moves like she's having fun, like even though she knows she'll win, it's the motion that matters. Ray can work with that—it's the way he feels, sometimes, when he's dancing, or just fighting. He's had that same smile on his face, a time or three, when he's doing what he loves, and doing it well, flying down the road. It's some sort of zen-type thing, being in your body and just knowing, knowing that whatever you need to do, it'll do for you.

She's making Sheppard work for it, now, and it's clear, to Ray, that while Sheppard's no slouch, Teyla's a lot better. Sheppard keeps up, for the first few minutes, but Ray can see that she's just toying with him, letting him think he's doing better, waiting for him to try something new so that she can smack him down. He's dancing around, coming at her from all sides, and Ray just smiles, because Teyla's blocking him easily, cooly, with this little smile on her face, not moving any more than she has to. Once Sheppard's tired out a little more, she'll strike, just wait, wait for it—

Sure enough, after a few minutes Sheppard leans too far, and while he's struggling for balance, Teyla pounces. She's got him disarmed in a heartbeat, sending his sticks flying over towards Ray, and the next thing any of them know, Sheppard's flat on his back on the floor, Teyla straddling his hips, holding him down, and pinning his hands down with her sticks.

"Ray," she says, and christ, Ray jumps, 'cause he kind of thought she'd forgotten all about him, "would you care to try the sticks?" She doesn't look up with him, though, just keeps staring down at Sheppard.

Even from across the room, he can see Sheppard swallow, can see him twist his hips, trying to shake Teyla off. Ray swallows, too, because, jesus. He knows how the guy must feel. And that's got to be uncomfortable, 'cause Ray's never known a man who doesn't get at least a little turned on by fighting, and the way Teyla's pinning him down, there's no way she doesn't know exactly how Sheppard's feeling, right now.

"Ray?" Teyla asks again, and he realizes he still hasn't answered her, jesus, just been staring at her and Sheppard like a kid with his first porn. Sheppard cocks an eyebrow at him—he'd known Ray was there, the whole time, yeah—and grins ruefully. Ray figures, what the hell, he'll take pity on the guy.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" he says, and strips off his coat, hands it to Fraser, who's just sitting on one of the benches. Ray picks up the sticks, toes off his shoes, and steps out on the mat, walks over to them. For a really long moment, they're all just frozen, there—Sheppard and Teyla on the mat, close as lovers, him standing over them, bouncing on the balls of his feet, Fraser and McKay, staring at the three of them and at each other. Then, all of a sudden, Teyla rolls off Sheppard and stands up, easy as breathing, and faces Ray, sticks up and ready.

Sheppard gets up slower, with another grin at Ray, but when he turns to go, though, Teyla calls him back.

"You understand the forms well," she says, "even though you do not _practice_." Sheppard grins, spreads his hands: guilty as charged, then. "You may help me demonstrate the forms to Ray." And, oh, he's so close to making some dumb joke about how she can demonstrate her form to him anytime, baby, but she's swinging the stick down at him, overhand, easy, and he's moving to block it before he can make that much of an ass of himself, thank god.

At first, it's not that hard—she's going real easy on him, he can tell, telegraphing her moves, swinging slowly, making sure he's can tell what's going on. After a while, though, she starts moving faster, and it's not too long before she lands a hit on his wrist, hard, and _oh, fuck_, that hurts, and he stumbles backward, bumping hard into Sheppard.

Sheppard's fine, though—guy must have been bracing his weight, seen Ray coming, because he catches Ray, no problem, sets him back on his feet and steps forward behind him.

"You need to get your arm up faster," he says, right in Ray's ear, and Sheppard's arm is under his, steadying him, showing him. They bring their arms up together, Ray leaning back against Sheppard, letting him balance them, while Teyla swings a few more times. They can't fight this way, not really, it's too slow, but Ray gets it, now—sees what he needs to do with his balance, move one foot back when the arm goes up, shift the weight, keep it all together, so he nods, meaning _yeah, ok, you can back off now_, but apparently Sheppard missed that particular day in class, the day when they taught you not to rub up against guys you've only known for a few days. He doesn't back off, not at all—if anything, the guy presses closer, resting his chin on Ray's shoulder. Ray can feel him smile at Teyla, sees her smile back at both of them. And, really, it's ok if Sheppard missed that particular lesson in guy code, because, sure, Ray speaks guy, but not like a first language or anything. Mostly these days he speaks Fraser, or Cop, or sometimes Wolf, but motion's always been his first language, better than everything else, cleaner, simpler.

So they fight like that, for a while, him and Sheppard against Teyla, except it's not fighting, now, or if it is, nobody's going to win, or maybe everybody's going to win. They're moving real slow, like practice, like getting your form just exactly right, but practice isn't what's making him breathe heavy, and he'd bet it's not what's making a lump against his ass. It's sure as hell not what's put that smile on Teyla's face.

Then, _clack, clack, clack_, and the sticks are out of their hands, flying off in opposite directions, and Teyla's even closer, close enough that he can feel her belly and breasts brushing against him, pushing him back into Sheppard's chest. Sheppard's still bracing his arms, and Teyla reaches under them, threads her arms around the two of them and pulls until they come together, the three of them, even closer than before. She's got her head on Ray's other shoulder, so for a minute he's got both of them breathing in his ears, which, fuck, have always been sensitive, and in a few seconds he's going to make a total ass of himself and start fucking _writhing_, that's how hot this is.

But then Teyla smiles—he can feel it, against the side of his face, and how weird is that?—and says "Benton, would you care to try, as well?" and right away Ray goes stiff, and not in the good-happy-fun-time way he was before, either, because, christ, Fraser's still there, Fraser's been there the entire time, and, shit, shit, shit. Because Sheppard's hot, sure, and Teyla's gorgeous, but Fraser's both of those, and more, and better. Ray can't move far, but he twists around between Sheppard and Teyla until he can see Fraser, sitting down on the bench, and—and, wow.

Fraser's wearing one of the Atlantis uniforms, baggy pants and a t-shirt, and of course he looks gorgeous (he always does, and some extra if you can get him out of his normal uniform), but completely apart from that, he looks turned on, which is such a trip that it takes Ray a minute to get his head around it, to even recognize the expression on Fraser's face for what it is. For a whole stupid second he wonders if Fraser's sick, because his eyes are real wide and his face is all flushed, even though Ray's the one who's been doing the work, over here. But he sees Fraser blink, and shift his weight, and fuck, any guy over the age of 13 knows that shift, the thing you do when you're turned on like hell and don't want to admit it. And, fuck, _yeah_, Ray's good with that, Ray's all about that—it almost surprises him, how hot it is to know that Fraser's been watching them, watching him. Then again, Fraser turns him on so much already, and, hell, he knew that he liked being watched, liked putting on a show.

So he grins at Fraser, but Fraser's blushing, and not meeting his eyes, and—_shit!_—standing up, and going for the door. Ray pushes his way out from between John and Teyla, who let him go, and tears out of the room after Fraser, who, thank christ, hasn't gone far, because this place is —McKay says it's bigger than Chicago, and Ray just can't get his head around that, but he knows it's plenty big enough for Fraser to lose him, if he wanted to. But he doesn't, he didn't—he's just slumped against the wall, right outside the door to the gym, crouched down, head in his hands.

Ray comes up to him, _gentle, gentle, don't want to spook him, just_—a hand on his shoulder, and Fraser looks up, and, god, the look on his face, it's—it's fucking heartbreaking, that's what it is, because he looks empty, and embarrassed, and angry, and still turned on, and like he wants to die, or to kill someone, which, wow—not a very Fraser look, but Ray likes it (he likes all of Fraser's looks, true, but this one—it's new, and different, and, well, really damn hot).

He says Fraser's name, real soft, and then stops, because, shit, what does he say now? but it turns out it doesn't matter, because Fraser's leaning forward, grabbing onto Ray's shoulder with one hand and sliding the other one up into his hair and kissing him, fuck, kissing him fierce and angry and dirty.

Ray's all over that, all over Fraser, because Teyla's sexy and Sheppard's insanely hot, but Fraser's everything, fucking everything, always has been, so Ray kisses him back, pins him against the wall and just kisses him like he's been meaning to this entire time. He kisses him like of _course, yes, now, please_, kisses him like long nights and lazy mornings, kisses him like everything, ever, has all just been the leadup to this.

He could kiss Fraser forever, but eventually they've got to breathe, even Mr. Superior Lung Capacity, so he pulls back, rests his forehead agains Fraser's and they just crouch there, leaning against each othe. They laugh, a little, breathlessly, because christ, fuck, this is—it's just—it's them, it's the way they've been for the very beginning, and so of course it had to happen, because Ray got his ass kicked by a space babe.

"Jesus, Fraser," he says, and then, looking down at him, tilting his head up to see his face, he asks, "you OK?" Fraser looks up at him, eyes wide and dark, and starts to speak about three times before the words actually come out. Ray's patient, though, or at least he can fake it, so he just leans in, rubbing his fingers gently along the side of Fraser's neck, soothing.

"Ray," Fraser says finally, "I must admit I'm—I'm somewhat in the dark as regards—Ray," he asks, looking down, "what do you intend, here?"

Laughing, here and now, would just make things awkward, so Ray leans in and kisses Fraser, soft and sweet, and curls his fingers around the back of his neck.

"I _intend_, Fraser," he says, "to go back in that room and apologize to the nice people in there. Then I _intend_ to get my coat and my shoes," and he wiggles his toes at Fraser. Fraser starts to grin, and Ray figures they'll be all right. He stands up, pulls Fraser to his feet, and kisses him, quickly, because he can, and says "After that, I _intend_ to find a room," he kisses Fraser, "with a door," kiss, "and a bed," kiss, "and I _intend_ to stay there with you until we get hungry." He leans in to kiss Fraser again, but Fraser tugs away, turns the tables, until he's pinning Ray against the wall.

"And after that?" His voice is low and shaky, and Ray grabs him and hugs him as hard as he can.

"Well, I was _intending_ to do pretty much the same thing for the next couple years, but, hey, I guess maybe we could switch it up after a few months. You know, if we get bored."

"An excellent plan, Ray," and then it's all kissing, caught between Benton Fraser and a wall, nowhere better in the world.

Except maybe that bed they were talking about. He pulls away, ducks back for a few more kisses and a swift grope of Fraser's ass, and then pulls away again, turns away, tugs Fraser towards the door. _Shoes, coat, apologies, bed,_ he thinks. The door slides open in front of him, and he stops short. He barely even notices Fraser bumping up against him, because holy shit.

Sheppard and Teyla haven't moved, it looks like, but now McKay is standing behind Sheppard like Sheppard was behind Ray, before, like Fraser is behind Ray, now. He's got his legs apart, weight braced so that Sheppard can lean back on him. Sheppard's got his arms around Teyla's shoulders, now, and Teyla's got her arms around both of them, hands resting easy on McKay's ass. Ray can't figure out where McKay's hands are, for a minute, but then they all shift a little and, jesus, it looks from here like they're down Sheppard's pants. The angle's right for it, anyway, and Sheppard sure looks happy enough—he's just letting his head drop back, rolling around on McKay's shoulder. And McKay—he's biting Sheppard's neck, and the sight of that, and the way Sheppard's body tenses and melts, tenses and melts as McKay works his way down the big tendon, it makes Ray lean back into Fraser, rubbing a little against him, and then rubbing a little more, when Fraser groans and grabs his hips, dragging him back. And of course Ray has to groan a little, himself, because it just feels that hot.

Then, he sees Teyla's eyes drift open, sees her smile at the two of them, a smile with too many teeth, a smile that says things about eating, and desire. She whispers something to McKay and Sheppard, but McKay doesn't look up, just keeps his mouth to Sheppard's neck. Sheppard turns, though, as much as he can, trapped between Teyla and McKay—Ray remembers that, remembers how it felt to be trapped between Teyla's body, velvet over steel, and Sheppard's chest. He's not surprised that Sheppard looks wide eyed and vacant, like the lights are on but everyone's too busy fucking to come to the door, _sorry, please try again later_.

"Hey, guys" he says, playing it cool even as his hips start to make little jerky motions, forward against Teyla and back against McKay, "glad you could make it—" and right there, Ray can see the exact moment he loses it, when McKay's hands and mouth and the press of Teyla against him becomes too much and he moans and just falls apart, there, held up between the two of them, twisting and writhing as he comes. Ray can feel Fraser, his fingers on Ray's hip and low on his belly, pulling them together, and he tilts his head back, twists around until he can get at Fraser's mouth and kiss him some more. This time, Ray gets his hands up the back of Fraser's shirt, gets to touch all that skin, hot and smooth and Fraser, _Fraser_.

Fraser, meanwhile, gets his hands—jesus _god_—down the back of Ray's fucking pants, and he's, oh, he's grabbing Ray's ass, holy shit, rubbing and pressing and Ray, he's saying, Ray, _Ray_—

"Ray! Christ, Kowalski!" and Ray drags his head up, spins around, because, shit, that's not Fraser—and, no, it's McKay, who's turned around to look at them. Behind him, John's on his knees, working at the button of Teyla's pants, kissing her stomach, and Teyla's running her fingers through his hair and guiding his face between her legs. "Not to interrupt your fun, or anything," McKay says, and Ray has to drag his attention back to him again, "but you might want to consider joining the rest of the class."

For a second, nobody says anything, and then McKay starts to babble, nervous. "I mean, unless that's not what you want, which, I can't imagine why you'd be that stupid, really, but then—"

Ray tunes him out and looks back at Fraser, wanting to be sure he's OK with this, because if he's not, fuck it, they'll go, they can do this anywhere, but Fraser's not looking at him. Fraser's looking at McKay, who's just kind of standing there, pants unzipped and one hand around his cock and still fucking _talking_, saying some shit about how they don't do this every day, or, well, _ever_, actually—

"Nevertheless," Fraser says, "that is no reason for us to limit ourselves." He smiles down at Ray, gives him a little squeeze, and Ray figures that's plenty of answer for him, so he steps forward, Fraser right behind him.

He's not quite sure what he wants to do—well, fine, he knows what he wants to do, but he also knows that he can't do everything at once, no matter how great that would be. He's thinking he's just going to sit and watch for a bit (well, okay, and rub up against Fraser some more, but that's a given), but Fraser clearly has other plans, because he just keeps moving, shifting Ray along ahead of him. He doesn't stop until Ray's pressed right up against McKay, with Fraser behind him, hot and hard and Fraser, and gee, doesn't this look familiar? He's not complaining, though—no way in hell is he complaining—and so he slides one hand down and wraps it around McKay's cock. It's been a while since he did this from this angle, but the mechanics of it aren't that much different, and McKay sighs, and groans, and leans forward to bite Ray's neck—guy must have a thing for necks, but Ray is still not complaining—so Ray figures he's not doing so bad for a guy with a twenty-year hiatus from guys.

It gets a little harder when Fraser brings his hand into the mix, doing to Ray what Ray's doing to McKay  
because, christ, as if this weren't already hot enough, this is Fraser, Fraser with one hand on Ray's hip and the other hand down Ray's pants, Fraser with his cock pressed hard into Ray's ass. Fraser kissing McKay, hot and sloppy, over Ray's shoulder, and that should no way be so hot, feeling their mouths move and hearing the little slip-slide wet smacking noises that mouths make, when you kiss. But you know what? fuck it, it is, and Ray turns his head to get some of that.

He winds up with McKay's mouth, not Fraser's, but that's fine, because McKay's a damn good kisser, too, and Fraser takes advantage of the moment to get at Ray's neck, where McKay just was, biting and licking and just nuzzling, fuck. It's great, beyond great, and so he kisses McKay, grinds back against Fraser's cock and forward into his hand, and they get a sweet little rhythm set up, the three of them, forward and back and _yes_ and _god_ and _oh_ and _oh_ and _oh_—

Suddenly, McKay's bucking into his hand and grabbing onto Fraser's ass, hard, breaking away from Ray's mouth to gasp against his shoulder as he comes, hot and wet, against Ray's belly. And that—being sandwiched between Rodney McKay, who's moaning his way through what looks like a pretty fucking awesome orgasm, and Benton Fraser, who has his mouth on Ray's neck and his hand on Ray's cock, and definitely knows what to do with both of those—is more than enough for Ray. He comes, too, shaking and moaning and arching his back, rocking back up on his toes, bracing himself on Fraser's shoulder as Fraser's hands, Fraser's fucking incredible hands, keep working on him.

"Christ," he says, as soon as he's got enough of his brain back to be saying words again, "Christ, Fraser, please, " and he turns, kisses Fraser, latches on to him and just breathes him in, and Fraser returns the favor with fucking interest, and when Ray pulls back, he's dizzy, honest to god dizzy, the world a little black around the edges and his knees feel like jello.

He stumbles backward, and someone—Sheppard, he thinks—is there, catching him under the arms and easing him down to the floor. McKay's already there, grinning drowsily at him.

"I—Christ," Ray says, because he can't figure out what the hell else to say, but Sheppard just grins down at him, ruffles his hair.

"Don't worry, Kowalski," he says, "at least you didn't pass out." He's grinning at McKay, who just waves it all away.

"Oh, will you shut _up_ about that already?" he says, "and come over here; I can't move," He reaches one arm up, curling it around Sheppard's neck and dragging him over. Sheppard goes with him, easy, leaning over Ray to kiss McKay, wet and slow and sloppy. It's just about as hot as McKay and Fraser kissing was, to be honest—more, maybe, because Ray can see it for real, this time. He can see McKay's eyes slide shut, and the way Sheppard's hand curls around the back of his neck, trust and comfort and belonging, all right there, and he can see the flicker of Sheppard's tongue against the corner of McKay's mouth, and he sees McKay's hand as he tucks it down the back of Sheppard's pants. It's not urgent, now—they're not teenagers—but it's hot, jesus, slow and easy and messy, the way you kiss when you could do it all day, and then all day tomorrow, and never stop except maybe for a nap or a blowjob.

And as soon as Ray thinks 'blowjob,' he thinks 'Fraser', like Pavlov's dog or whatever, and he looks around, and god. There's no way in hell he's getting hard again, not yet, but it's a close thing, because Teyla's leaning over Fraser, mouth wrapped around his cock, and Fraser—Ray can tell he's trying so damn hard not to just tear lose, jerk up into Teyla's mouth. He's got his hands clenched, out to the sides and he's arching his chest up, twisting his head back and forth, hot and sweaty and gorgeous, so _goddamn_ gorgeous.

Ray crawls forward, then, because even though he feels drowsy and mellow, the _I just came my brains out_ high is nothing compared to the sight of Fraser's cock, and Teyla's mouth wrapped around it.

He pauses for a moment, when he gets over there, to think about how this is going to work, one hand braced on the small of Teyla's back. She turns, a little, glances back and smiles at him, and he thinks about it, and yeah, that could work, sure. He leans in, kisses Fraser's hip, bites it, kisses it again, and then slides his lips over, kisses Teyla's cheek. She lets Fraser's cock slip out of her mouth and kisses him back, fast and dirty, and he tastes her and Fraser, together, and wow, that's just fucking incredible.

Then, somehow, Fraser's cock is back between them, and Ray's kissing down one side while Teyla kisses down the other, sliding her tongue out every little while to lick across his lips.

"Oh, that's nice," he hears Rodney say, and then "no, don't stop, what kind of an idiot are you?" when he starts to pull his head back. Then Teyla gives a little gasp, and rolls off to one side, arching her back—out of the corner of his eye, Ray can see hands on her breasts and between her thighs, and he thinks shit, no wonder she's moaning—but that's fine, no worries there, because that means he's got Fraser's cock all to himself. He goes to town, trying everything he's ever thought of and a few more things he'd never considered before, but that look pretty good when he's got Fraser's hands in his hair and Fraser's hips twitching under him, his thighs and stomach shaking.

"Ray," he moans, and that's it, that's all she wrote, and all Ray can do is swallow, swallow and try not to choke or laugh from the sheer fucking joy of it all. He can't help it, not entirely, it's been a long fucking time since he did this, and some spills down his chin, but he just grins and licks his lips, and then Fraser's looking at him, smiling, and so of course Ray has to work his way up Fraser's body and lick his lips, and so they kiss, sweet and sleepy, for long minutes.

He almost falls asleep there, on top of Fraser, both of them sprawled across the floor of a gym on another planet with most of their clothes still on, christ. After a while, though, Sheppard crouches next to them and shakes them awake, points out that they should probably go back to their rooms about now. Ray doesn't want to move, but a bed, and Fraser in it, is a pretty fucking appetizing prospect, so he rolls to his feet, gives Fraser a hand up, kisses him again, when he gets there, just because.

"Ahem," McKay says, and Ray turns back around to glare at him, but he's just handing them Ray's shoes and jacket, so he turns the growl into a grin at the last second. McKay snorts, like he doesn't buy that for one second, but Ray's got Fraser wrapped around him, and McKay's leaning heavily on Sheppard, so both of them are really too fucking happy to be pissed off.

"I believe that Benton's quarters have a larger bed," says Teyla, and, christ, there is no earthly reason for Ray to be blushing, right now, but he is. She leans foward, and kisses them each once, and then goes over to McKay and Sheppard. The three of them share a long hug, and there are kisses all around, and then Teyla pulls away and heads out the door, without a look back.

"Come on," Sheppard says, "they've put you in right next to McKay, we'll walk you there."


End file.
